


Repeat, Rethink, Remake

by Megaeevee



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha Daryl Dixon, Alpha Rick Grimes, Alpha Shane Walsh, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood and Gore, Incest, OTHER TAGS MAY BE ADDED AS THE STORY PROGRESSES, Omega Carol Peletier, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, What have I written, all warnings that would apply for the show tbh, another rick goes back in time fic, in my abo omegas have vaginas and alphas have dicks, omega merle, rick from canon wakes up in abo world, spoilers for S8, there be canon deaths, there be non-canon deaths, there will be other background pairings but those are the main ones for now, warning; no lori bashing in this fic, where the fuck to start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megaeevee/pseuds/Megaeevee
Summary: When Rick wakes up, he thinks he is having a nightmare. Or perhaps a dream, for the precious few seconds before he recognises the setting. He is back in the hospital room.(just your standard redo fic, with abo thrown in, set after the events of s8e9)





	1. Chapter 1

When Rick wakes up, he thinks he is having a nightmare. Or perhaps a dream, for the precious few seconds before he recognises the setting. He is back in the hospital room. Rick has had lucid dreams before, but this felt different. He knew that he hadn't exactly been in great mental health since... since Lori died, really, all that time ago. But.. He clenched his fist in the bed sheets. It felt real. Rick could feel the fabric between his fingers, unwashed.

There were also things he hadn't noticed in real life too. The smell, for one. Rick had become used to the smell you get living in this world; everybody stinks, all the time. You acquire dirt from everywhere. This smell now was an unwashed body, yes, but there was no underlying odour of walker. Instead there was still a faint medical smell lingering.

Another thing was the sound. Or lack thereof. No cars or nurses or heart monitors. Nothing at all. That should have tipped him off the first time. But he wasn't like this then. He didn't have the instincts. Now Rick was going crazy with the knowledge just from those two senses that something was wrong.

He shouldn't be feeling like this in a dream.

Rick was starting to have a bad feeling. He didn't want to move. If he just lay here maybe he would fall asleep and wake up again in Alexandria. In his home, with Michonne, with his children. With his child. Carl...

He didn't know why he was worrying; there was no way this could be real. It was impossible. There was a chance he would walk out the door and instead of the hospital, he would be in the station, or his old home, or hell even candy-land. This was just a fragment of a dream.

But still, Rick didn't move. There was dread in his stomach, curling up through his chest, reaching his fingertips. It was crushing him. Laying there he felt its weight pushing him down. If he didn't get up he would suffocate.

Rick took a gasping breath and jerked his arms. And with that first major movement, the illusion was shattered. He pushed himself to his elbows, gasping in pain. This was undeniably real now. The wound on his side was enough to convince him by itself. Rick hunched over and put his hand over the wound. It was more painful than he remembered.

But looking around the room, it was the same. He reached over and touched the dead flowers. Shane had left them there.

Shane was still alive.

Rick was left gasping for breath, hunched over and crying with the realization. His best friend was still alive. Lori was alive. Andrea was alive. So was Amy, Dale, T-Dog, Jacqui. Carl. They were at the quarry, right now.

He had to get there. He could save them, this time. Rick knew things now that he hadn't before, knew how it was going to go. He could save them. He could save Carl.

Was that why he was there? For a second chance?

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and gently lowered his feet to the floor. His whole body felt shaky and uncertain. Empty. Also not how he remembered it but there had been more adrenaline involved the first time, more fear and confusion.

Rick wasn't afraid. He was plenty confused but it was a more abstract confusion; how had this happened? But it wasn't something Rick had to worry about right that second. Unlike last time, he knew what to do and what was happening. But he wasn't afraid.

Instead there was almost an excitement. An eagerness to go forward and change things. It would be better this time, Rick knew it. He would make them stronger this time. This time it wouldn't be just a wisp of a thought of a future that drove them. It would be a concrete, real image of Alexandria that Rick would guide them to. And Alexandria would be stronger for it.

It was hope, this time, that allowed Rick to escape the hospital.

-

The breeze felt nice when Rick stepped out. The only nice thing, in fact, about being outside because he was also immediately confronted by wrapped up bodies. Rick recognised the smell from this at least. He walked past as quickly as he could, warily, but these were just bodies. This was back when people could still die and not come back. Rick wondered at exactly what point they had all become infected.

He should get a vehicle. It had been stupid of him to use a bike last time. A lot of things had been stupid last time.

He was so exhausted. How had he pedalled home in this state? He scanned the area for walkers and spotted one. His heart actually skipped for a moment because it looked so human. The ones from his time had rotted so much they barely resembled what they used to be. It was so far away that it hadn't seen him yet and Rick kept moving, passing the trucks with bodies piled high. Why were there so few walkers? Rick could only guess that it was because everybody had fled to Atlanta.

Atlanta. God, Rick had to get to Atlanta. He definitely needed a car.

It was then that Rick remembered something. And at first he couldn't believe it.

He scrambled up the short hill and there it was. A helicopter. Army tents, vehicles, supplies. A makeshift base of operations. Rick remembers stumbling past this, despairing at how apparently even the military had failed to contain – well, he hadn't known what, but he had figured by then that it was bad. And then he had just left it there. He had never come back to this hospital.

Now, he wandered up to a jeep. It still worked, it still had gas. He leaned heavily on it. There must be guns and ammunition around here. Rick needed a weapon, fast. He couldn't see any undead soldiers; they must have been in the hospital. Rick looked past the tents and took the time to really see it. The hospital was bombed, glass smashed, bullet holes on the outside.

But no walkers.

He's lost track of the one he had seen before. Where did it go? Rick rubbed his forehead. He must be in worse condition than he had thought but he pushed himself upright. He needed to get out of here. Who knows how many walkers were in the hospital, waiting to catch wind of him? He had to get to his house, find his clothes. He needed to... he needed to find Morgan and Duane. Rick released a shaky sigh.

Morgan and Duane. He was going to save them both. But to do that he needed to get there.

First priority was weapons. Is always weapons. Rick glanced down at himself and swallowed. His first instinct now was to look for a good knife and maybe a gun as backup. In the future, guns are for living people. But he felt so weak, Rick didn't know if would be able to stab a walker. He needed a gun.

He pushed off of the jeep and stumbled his way over to a tent, his gait uneven and patchy. No wonder Duane had thought he was a walker. Rick paused outside the tent and listened. Nothing moved inside but he was hesitant to go in. The fear was starting to catch up with him now; here he was unarmed, recovering from being shot, wandering around without any protection during the apocalypse. If he went into that tent now and there was a walker inside, he was probably finished.

And, he realised, they had been different back then. The walkers and the people. But mostly the walkers, Rick thought. They had been faster, smarter. Rick remembered the one with the brick outside the department store and how some had climbed the fence after he and Glenn made a run for it.

Rick had never questioned it – he was never one to question things he couldn't change. He had never asked why the apocalypse happened and he supposed he would never really wonder how he was there now, having seemingly gone back in time. In his head Rick had chalked the change in walker behaviour up to advanced decomposition and left it at that. He didn't think he would ever know the true answer. And he couldn't afford to stand outside this tent and wonder.

The bottom line was; these walkers were more dangerous. But in the end, Rick had to do it because he refused to rely on luck this time. He would trust his instincts and do what was smart. And right now the smart thing to do was check these tents.

He took a deep steadying breath and curled his fingers into the tent flap. He counted to three in his head and on the last number, Rick yanked the tent flap open. 

There were no walkers in the tent. Instead, Rick found guns. There was a table in the middle with maps on it and a gun rack that was mostly empty. He grabbed a rifle from the gun rack and a handgun that was lying on the table. He couldn't carry any more in his state but he wasn't worried; he still remembered the gun stores at the station. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and checked the handgun. It was fully loaded, not a single round fired.

It made him nervous that it had been just lying there, discarded. What had happened to its owner? Was he wandering around somewhere close by, ready to chew Rick's face off? Rick kept the gun at the ready as he checked the rest of the tent. He took some ammunition for the rifle but there was none for the handgun.

He stepped back outside and did a quick sweep of the area. Still nothing.

Next priority was food and medicine. Rick moved toward a second helicopter. There were supplies scattered all around, as well as several body bags. The army had had everything; Rick saw plenty of medicine, barrels of fuel, field rations, even a tank. But they had still been overwhelmed.

Rick started picking up anything he thought would be useful and loading it into the jeep but he could only carry so much with one hand while keeping his gun ready in the other. He quickly became out of breath with all of the back and forth. He took a breather, leaning against the side of car, the back of it only somewhat full. He looked around at all the supplies he could still gather and wondered if he should come back with Morgan and Duane.

Just then a sound reached him, coming from a line of tents behind the first one. Rick turned and saw a soldier stumbling towards him. The man had an open wound on his torso, his uniform ripped open and stained brown. He moaned and snarled, coming up fast, going directly for Rick.

Rick stood up straight, brought the gun up and fired. The snarling was abruptly cut off as the walker fell but that was lost as the shot rang out, echoing across the hospital grounds. Rick only had a second to realise his mistake before a woman lurched out of another tent, her medic uniform stained beyond recognition. More followed her, patients and doctors alike.

Rick staggered back against the jeep, hand going to fumble with the handle. There were too many for him to deal with and the gunfire would only attract more. The door swung open and he scrambled in, slamming it shut. The keys had still been in the ignition and Rick peeled away from the base, the walkers now running to catch up. He accelerated over the remaining supplies, running over a few body bags while he was at it.

He swung right to get onto the road but as he did so he saw walkers streaming out of the hospital. This was a pretty small-town hospital but there must still have been hundreds of them inside. They saw Rick's jeep and made for it, moving a hell of a lot quicker than he was used to. They were still too slow for the jeep, falling away into the distance as he drove into the abandoned suburban sprawl that was his home town.

What did I just do? Rick thought.

They would follow the direction the car had gone, gathering numbers as they moved, and killing anyone in their path. Including Morgan and Duane.

Have I just unleashed a herd on this town?

He had been stupid this time, too, Rick realised as he shakily turned toward home. Except instead of making the same mistakes, he had made whole new ones. He shouldn't have hung around the hospital. Just because you can't see walkers doesn't mean they aren't there, waiting just around the corner. And he knew there was a high chance there would be walkers in the hospital. Of course there were.

And now he had a time limit.

As if I didn't have one before.

That was true, he thought. He had always had a timeline in head; it was just accelerated now. Rick took a deep breath. Okay. He had a few hours before the herd would reach his neighbourhood, if they were even going in that direction at all, and in that time he had to collect Morgan and Duane and the guns.

And he had to convince them to leave with him.

Last time, Morgan couldn't leave without killing his wife. Which he didn't manage to do. Would he come with Rick this time, if he knew there was a herd coming? Or would he want to hide out in that house until it passed? Rick wanted to believe he would come but he knew first hand what losing your wife did - to them both. If Morgan thought his wife was still there, he would stay until she wasn't. He might send Duane on with Rick if he thought there was danger, but he would stay.

Rick would just have to take care of the wife himself. What was her name? Morgan had told him, he was sure. He would have to kill her in such a way that Morgan and Duane wouldn't be angry at him, preferably in self-defence and somewhere they would see her go down. But they would be upset and emotionally unstable, no matter how this went down. Rick glanced down at himself. Maybe he could play the sympathy card?

He pulled into his neighbourhood, the memory of this now-unfamiliar place rushing back to him. But it wasn't quite right either; the clean-cut houses he vaguely remembered were replaced in his mind by these cleaned out homes, confusing his recollection of it all. He stopped the jeep outside the house he remembered as his. He sat there for a moment and stared at it. It was like trying to wear an old jumper that no longer fit.

The had been his home once. Then the prison. Then Alexandria.

He stepped out of the jeep and took stock of the street. It was so empty; it had really been nothing more than pure luck that he had survived the first time. That the walkers had all somehow managed to miss him in their aimless wanderings.

He walked up the front path and just stood in the doorway for a moment. Here was the entrance to another life. Rick let his fingers brush the wood of the door before he stepped inside. Everything had been so white. In the future, things that used to be white were now all faded grey. Except in Alexandria.

It was in disarray from Lori and Carl's hurried packing, but the pictures were still missing. Rick moved to the bedroom and began looking through his things. He just put on normal clothes and some old hiking boots he had forgotten that he owned. And he dug out his old winter jacket from the back of the closet. He did grab his keys and holster though, putting the new gun in it and slinging the rifle over his shoulder again.

And then he sat on his old bed, his marital bed. He lifted some of Lori's discarded clothes off it and rubbed the sheets. They had made love here, they had loved here, in this house. But there was a horde coming and he didn't have time to waste. Rick took a fortifying breath, then he got up and left. There was nothing he needed from the house, nothing he could bear to take.

He left it all behind when he walked back out to the jeep. He flung the winter jacket over the passenger seat and grabbed a some kind of protein bar from the back. He was feeling a little better from earlier but he thought he was still weak. He'd need to keep his strength up because the walkers would be here in, he checked his watch, about an hour and a half, give or take.

He only then realised that Morgan and Duane weren't there. When he had left his house last time, they had been in the area but now he didn't see them anywhere. But then again, Rick figured that even with the extra time he took at the hospital, between the jeep and generally knowing what to do, he was a bit quicker this time around. He shoved the last bit of the protein bar in his mouth and dropped the wrapper. That meant he would have some time to find the mother before they showed up.

Rick pushed off the jeep and set off on his mission, gun at the ready and still chewing the last bite of the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

There she was. 

Rick was on the porch of one of his neighbours - he no longer remembered the name - when he saw her. She was wandering in the street, a couple of others nearby, still in the nightgown she died in. He was crouched down, hidden from view, and just watched as she ambled closer. 

There was almost an intelligence to her, Rick realised. It was the way her vacant gaze almost had some thought in it, how she appeared to be looking at things and understanding them. Rick knew she was not but he could perhaps understand how Hershel had believed these people could be cured. 

It was easy to forget that they had been people. The walkers Rick was used to were rotting, grisly monsters. He rarely saw any fresh ones, but even those were not like these. He remembered how Morgan’s wife had come up the porch steps and tried to open the door. She had remembered - and they didn’t do that anymore. Why had nobody questioned this? 

They had forgotten, that was why. Less than two years since it all started but it seemed like a decade. Rick didn’t remember much from his life before, truth be told. And there were things, people, he had forgotten about even from his time at the quarry. And he had forgotten a lot of things on purpose, since the prison fell.

He reached up to rub his jaw, scratching at the stubble. It wasn’t quite the beard he had had upon arrival at Alexandria, but he would need to shave if he wanted Lori to recognise him. His eyes tracked Morgan’s wife. Just a little closer. Rick adjusted the gun in his hand, shifted a little to alleviate the ache in his knees. He felt ready.

The wife wandered down the sidewalk, past where he was sitting. Rick stood up, the movement catching her eye. She turned toward him but he already had the shot lined up. 

He took it. She fell.

Rick came down the porch steps and looked at her, splayed out in the street. The eyes were the only sign of her being dead, otherwise she just looked like a woman. He looked up the street, where two walkers were advancing. More would be coming. Where were Morgan and Duane?

Rick turned away from the walkers, intending to go check the house they were hiding in, when something hit the side of his face and he went down. He hit the pavement hard, head smacking off the concrete.

Rick groaned as he lay there dazed. Someone was shouting. Someone was crying. Faintly there was the sound of walkers, a sound his hindbrain recognised immediately, even when he was still trying to piece everything together. 

“You son of a bitch! You… You son of a bitch!”

That was Morgan. He was screaming, crying, waving a shovel around. Mostly he was crying. He walked away a few paces, rubbed his face with the hand not holding the shovel. He looked at his wife on the ground, sobbed, and looked away again. 

Rick turned his head in her direction, the most movement he was capable of. He saw his gun lying by his outstretched hand and Duane weeping over his mother’s corpse. Behind him, two more still moving. 

“Morgan,” Rick tried. It came out garbled and unrecognisable. “Watch out!”

Rick willed his body to life, making his hand do an uncoordinated twitch towards his gun. He rolled onto his side, raised the gun with one shaking hand, fired. Missed. Or, he hit it in the shoulder but it might as well have gone wide. Duane startled, falling back over his mother, almost as if to protect her.

Morgan spun wildly at the sound of the shot. Seeing the walkers almost descending on his son snapped him out of his episode. He swung the shovel, catching the nearest one in the face. Rick shot at the second one and caught it in the jaw. It stumbled back a few steps and he fired again, killing it this time. 

Morgan was leaning over the other one, hand over his face, shovel discarded. Rick’s hand dropped and he slowly pushed himself to his feet. They were running out of time. 

“Hey,” Rick said, approaching Duane cautiously. “Are you alright?”

Rick was taken aback by the ferocity in Duane’s glare. The boy hated him. Morgan spun around when he heard Rick’s voice, striding over and grabbing him by the collar.

“Don’t talk to him! Don’t you talk to him!” Morgan shook Rick. “How could you? That was my wife! My Jenny...” Morgan’s voice choked off. 

“Sir,” Rick said in his cop voice, remembering now that he wasn’t supposed to know who Morgan was. “Your wife was dead long before now.” 

Morgan shook his head in denial, muttering ‘no’ repeatedly under his breath. Rick holstered his gun and slowly brought his hands up to rest on Morgan’s shoulders. He caught Morgan’s eye, holding it in his unwavering stare.

“I’m sorry,” he said and he meant it. “But there’s a horde coming. A big one, from the hospital. It’s heading in this direction. It’ll be here soon and more walkers will have heard the gunshots. They’ll be coming.”  
Rick wondered if Morgan was processing this. His wife had just ‘died’ and he was looking dazed. He really wished he hadn’t had to kill Jenny, but if he hadn’t then there would have been no chance of getting them out of there.

“I have vehicle, close by,” Rick continued. “You can come with me. I’m Rick Grimes. I was… I was a cop. I did what I had to, with… with Jenny, but you can trust me. I can get us into the gun store at the station. Do you understand?” 

“We’re not going with you!” Duane shouted, leaving his mother’s side.

Morgan slowly let go of Rick’s shirt and stepped away. He put his hand on Duane’s shoulder, turning away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” Morgan said. “I think you should get out of here before I end up doing something I’ll regret.”

Rick saw in Morgan’s dark eyes a hint of the crazed, grief ridden man that he could become - that he would have become if he’d lost Duane too. 

“You won’t make it.” Rick shouted. Morgan stopped turning. “Whatever place you think you can hide, it won’t work. I’m talking about hundreds of walkers here, heading right towards this neighbourhood. And if you do somehow survive this horde? There’ll be another. And another after that. They’ll sneak up on you when you least expect it,” he said, remembering Morgan’s story about Duane dying. “They’re everywhere. And it’s not just walkers you have to worry about anymore. People are just as dangerous now.”

Rick wasn’t even sure he was getting through. Morgan wouldn’t look directly at him - was he even hearing him? 

But after a moment Morgan said, “People like you, you mean?” And then he looked at Rick again, and Rick saw that he was lost, floating in a sea of despair. Rick needed to anchor him to the here and now, before he really did do something he’d regret - and cost Duane his life.

“No. Not like me,” Rick said, putting his hand out to stop Morgan leaving. “Because I want you to come with me. I’m offering you, both of you,” he made sure to look at Duane as well, “a chance. For safety, security, a home. No one else is gonna offer you that if you stay here. They won’t get the choice because you’ll be - !” 

He was cut off by snarling. Seven or eight walkers, coming between the houses, drawn by gunfire. It wasn’t the hoard yet. Rick had enough bullets if he used the rifle as well but he didn’t want to waste them. He knew that Morgan and Duane wouldn’t be able to take out this many alone with their current level of expertise. They backed toward Rick, Morgan realising that he’d neglected to pick up the shovel again. Duane didn’t have a weapon.

“It’s not safe to stay here,” Rick reiterated. “There’s-there’s a group I’ve heard,” Rick said, struck by sudden inspiration. “On the radio. I’m going to find them - they’re near Atlanta. There’s nothing left for you here,” he cut his eyes to Jenny’s lifeless body, “and I know you’ve both lost a lot. But you can still make a life in this world. It’s not too late.” 

The walkers were close now, a few feet away. When he glanced at them again, Rick had to look again because he recognised some of them. They were his old neighbours. He shouldn't be surprised because they were in his old neighbourhood but Rick couldn’t say that he had ever thought of these people again after the world ended and had never considered that they had died. He would not let Duane walk among them.

“Dad?” Duane said, looking between the walkers and his father. It made Rick’s heart ache for Carl. 

They both backed up until they were level with Rick. Morgan looked at him, considering, for a few seconds. Perhaps he had just realised how unprepared they truly were, Duane without a weapon and him forgetting the shovel. Perhaps he figured they would be safer in a group. Perhaps it really was Rick’s words, and not the pressure of the situation, that finally convinced him.

“We’ll go with you,” Morgan said. “We’ll find your group outside of Atlanta. And we’ll decide for ourselves if we want to stay.”

It could have gone better, Rick thought as they headed for his house. But, then again, it could have gone a lot worse. 

-

Rick waited outside while Morgan and Duane went into their temporary residence to collect their things. The jeep waited just down the road, already loaded up with everything that Rick wanted to bring with him. He had food, some medical supplies, fuel, and water in the back. His watch said it was 3:30pm. Rick had been awake for three hours. In that time, he had stolen a military vehicle, attracted the attention of a legion of the undead, thereby setting forth a chain of events that would destroy his entire neighbourhood, and killed a man’s wife. And there were still things on his to-do list for the day. 

First thing; get Morgan and Duane out of here. Still not technically done but he was close. They had agreed to go with him at least as far as the quarry and Rick was confident that they would forgive him in time and consequently stay with the group.

Next thing; get the guns from the station. That’s where they were going next. A whole day ahead of ‘schedule’, a day earlier than the first time. Rick still remembered the tense night he had spent in the house he was standing in front of. He and Morgan had bonded that night, something they had yet to do in this timeline. Rick worried how all of this was going to affect things but spending the night here was not an option with the herd so close.

The police station was not in his old neighbourhood so hopefully by going there they would avoid the herd entirely. But it was close enough that the herd may pass through. Rick was aiming to be out of his hometown altogether and well on the way to the quarry, at least, by nightfall. 

Morgan and Duane came out of the house, each with backpacks. Morgan had the shovel and Duane was now carrying a baseball bat. They came up to Rick and Morgan reached out his hand.

“I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Morgan and this is my son, Duane.” 

Duane didn’t say anything.

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” Rick said. “I truly do.”

Rick nodded to Morgan and then led them to his vehicle. Once they were in, he pulled away, driving for what he hoped was the last time through his old street. But then, he had thought that before. 

Morgan and Duane were silent next to him, Duane squashed uncomfortably in the middle. (Rick hadn’t been planning on taking a squad car but he also hadn’t taken into account that the jeep only had two seats.) Rick didn’t know what to say and it was getting uncomfortable. It was difficult to act as if he didn’t know Morgan - a few times he almost went to say something, only to realise that he wasn’t supposed to know that or that it might be a little too specific. 

He wasn’t even sure if they were up to conversation - he thought that Duane at least didn’t want to talk to him. In the end he decided to say nothing and they spent the ride to the station in awkward silence.

When they got there, he drove the jeep around to where the cruisers were parked. Then he got out and just looked at the building. It was a feeling like he had at his home - familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. What had happened to his old colleagues? Had they gotten out? Abandoned the station?

He jumped at a hand on his shoulder but it was only Morgan. He was looking at Rick with something like pity.

“You been back here since it began?” Morgan asked.

Rick realised that he had neglected to tell Morgan about the coma, or about his injury.

“No. I just woke up today. I was in a coma.” He pulled up his shirt to reveal his bandaged side. At Morgan’s alarmed look, he hurried to add, “I was shot. I woke up and-and everything was gone. I stopped to get supplies outside the hospital when I was attacked by those things. The gunshots must have carried because next thing I knew, they were all coming out of the hospital, heading straight for me.”

“And that’s how the horde started,” Morgan said, pulling Duane closer to him.

“Yeah,” Rick said and then, struck by sudden inspiration, said, “I was flipping through radio stations in the jeep, trying to figure out what was going on, when I heard them. The group near Atlanta. I wasn’t able to speak to them but I think they would take us in. I… I think my wife took my son there. To Atlanta. I’m going to look for them there.” 

Rick thanked every star he knew that Lori and Carl had never actually made it to Atlanta. And then he thanked Shane. 

Morgan nodded understandingly and shared a look with Duane.

“We were heading there when this whole thing started. There was talk of a refugee center there. But then, Jenny was too sick to travel and, well… we just stayed.”

Rick remembered having a similar conversation with Morgan in the station’s locker room. That time, Morgan had said it was like he was ‘frozen’. He wasn’t frozen now, thanks to Rick. 

“I understand,” Rick said, because he did. He didn’t know what he would have done if somebody had tried to make him leave the prison right after Lori died. He took a deep breath. “Come on,” he said.

Rick unlocked the side door with the keys he had grabbed at his house. The door swung open, revealing a dark hall. It seemed empty, like last time. But Rick had learned never to take that for granted. 

He motioned for Morgan and Duane to wait outside while he ventured down the hall. It lead him to the bullpen, which was empty. Across the room, on the other side of the front counter, was the main entrance. The glass doors and windows were unbroken, the street looked deserted.

There were no signs of a struggle, no blood or anything. Everything looked normal. A disarray of paperwork and office supplies, no different to any other office space in existence. Rick saw nothing. He banged his gun on a filing cabinet and waited, but nothing appeared. He went to the other hallway on the other side of room, the one that led to everywhere else in the small building, but it looked clear. 

He went back and told Morgan and Duane that it was alright to come in. He led them straight to the locker room, still seeing nothing out of the ordinary on the way. The whole place was deserted. 

Rick cheered up when he saw the showers, suddenly feeling all of the two month coma-grime that he had on him. 

“When was the last time ya’ll had hot showers?” He asked, going over to the closest one. 

“Too long,” Morgan said. “Everything cut out about a month ago.”

“Well, luckily for us, the station has its own generator,” Rick said. 

He glanced at Duane’s hopeful look and with a grin and an elaborate flourish, he turned the faucet. The water spluttered at first but then started raining steady. He put his hand under to test it.

“Toasty,” he confirmed.

Duane whooped and Morgan cheered. Rick turned his back on them and stripped off, not shy about his body, and stepped in. After a few minutes, he could hear Duane singing in a stall a couple down from him. Rick laughed and looked over. 

Duane smiled at him, having forgotten in his excitement his mother’s death. Rick privately thought, glancing at Morgan shaving and absently noting that he should too, that Duane had done his mourning before that day. Seeing his mother’s still body had upset him, naturally, but he had probably known that she was dead before that. 

After showering, Rick pointed Duane towards the changing rooms. The boy left and he and Morgan were alone for the first time, sitting in their towels in the locker room. Morgan was staring at Rick and he didn’t know why. 

“Your wife,” Morgan eventually said. “What was her name?”

“Lori,” Rick answered. “And my son’s Carl.”

“You really think they’re out there?”

“I do,” Rick said. “I went back to my house, that’s why I was in that neighbourhood. And I went in and there were things missing. Clothes and things.”

“You know,” Morgan said gently. “Anybody could have come through there.”

“She took the photos from the walls,” Rick choked out, remembering how Lori had done that. 

Morgan nodded and put his hand on Rick’s shoulder.

“My wife did the same thing,” he said, glassy eyed. Then he smiled. “I think it’s an omega thing.”

Rick nodded, still thinking of Lori. Then he realised what Morgan had said. 

“What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here are morgan and duane! quick note; the abo wont really be coming into play until we get into atlanta


	3. Chapter 3

“What?” Rick asked, sure that he must have misheard.

“Oh,” Morgan said, taken aback. “Your wife’s an alpha too? Well I’ve never been one for judging other folks’ loving.”

Alpha? He knew that word, of course, but Morgan wasn’t making any sense. It was the way he said it, like Rick should know what he was talking about. He suddenly got a pit in his stomach; what if this was something different? He had never heard Morgan talk about alphas and omegas before. 

What if this wasn’t his world after all?

“I don’t understand,” Rick said, shaking his head. “I’m not an alpha.”

“You’re… Oh! I’m sorry. I just assumed…” Morgan trailed off, looking almost contrite, and now Rick was really confused. “Anyway, Duane and I are both alphas. But you don’t need to worry about that. We won’t try anything,” Morgan said, laughing a little at the thought of Duane ‘trying anything’.

Meanwhile, Rick’s hope was rapidly dwindling. He didn’t have a clue what Morgan was talking about, even though it was obvious that he should. Had he really been transported somehow, into an… alternate reality of some sort?

He didn’t know what to do. What if everything was different? What if there was no quarry group, no family, waiting for him? What if they were all dead?

But everything had seemed the same so far. Rick had been to his house and saw nothing that hadn't been there before. Even the police station was exactly how he remembered it. This was the first sign of anything being different. Maybe… maybe if Morgan explained it, it would make perfect sense. After all, Rick thought desperately, he had only met the man once, before he had gone... Well, Rick didn't like to say that he had gone crazy. After all, the grief of losing a loved one could be devastating. But still. There was always the chance that this was completely normal behaviour for him.

“I don’t understand,” Rick repeated. “Alphas and omegas. I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Never heard…? That’s impossible,” Morgan said, shaking his head and looking unsettled. 

Rick didn’t respond. Morgan peered at him for a few moments before realising that he was telling the truth.

“How?” Morgan said. He sat back, away from Rick. “It’s nature, part of who we are.”

Rick swallowed roughly and stood slowly. This obviously wasn't his home. What was he doing here? He paced away, running his hand down his face. What was he going to do now? He ached for his family, for Carl and Daryl and Michonne and Carol and all the others. For Judith. He suddenly felt so far away. 

He realised that he was panicking, the first true fear he had felt since waking.

“Hey, hey,” Morgan said from behind him. Rick turned and saw Morgan with his hands out in a placating gesture. “It’s alright. Why don’t we just get dressed,” he said, gesturing to Rick, who remembered that they were only wearing towels, “and we can sit down and talk. Alright? There’s no need to panic. You’ve just been in a coma, right? This could be some form of amnesia. OK?”

The thought didn’t calm Rick; he still remembered everything perfectly. Or thought he did. But he did nod and turn to change. Wanting privacy, he went over to his old locker, around the corner from Morgan so he couldn’t see him, and stood in front of it. 

He didn’t remember the combination. And even if he did, would it matter? It could be different in this world.

Rick closed his eyes and leaned against the locker. He heard fabric rustling on the other side of the wall and for a moment his instincts flared, before he told himself that it was only Morgan. 

He needed to get a grip. Ok. He took a deep breath. Ok. Even if this was a different... version of reality, it could still be a version close to his own. Evidence so far seemed to support this. So, Rick thought, his family may still be out there. And even if this world was slightly different, they would still be themselves. 

Focusing on that idea allowed Rick to calm down. His breathing evened and his shoulders dropped. All hope was not lost. Sighing, Rick turned back to the locker. He used to use it everyday but, like everything else, it had been so long. He ran his thumb along the edge of the door, over a scrape where he remembered Shane had ran into it and caught his belt or his badge on it.

With a calm mind, Rick remember the numbers.

Inside the locker was his sheriff’s uniform. Rick picked up the shirt, feeling the used fabric under his fingers. He had to swallow against the sudden tightness in his throat. He remembered days spent wasting time with Shane in the patrol car, hours at his desk doing paperwork, the confidence and pride when he wore his uniform in public. He remembered being a cop. Solving cases, helping people. It had never been very glamorous in this little town but there had been a few exciting times.

The day he got shot was one of them.

Rick put the shirt back. Then, hesitating, he grabbed his hat. For Carl.

He got redressed quickly and put the hat on. He probably looked ridiculous with a sheriff’s hat on with civilian dress - nothing like the gun-slinging deputy from all that time ago. Rick laughed a little to himself; what would that man have done, if he too knew what was going to happen? Probably not the same things he was doing now. 

He shut the locker and left it behind. He heard Duane coming back on the other side of the lockers. He was talking again. Not quite back to the boy Rick had gotten to meet only briefly, yet. But he would be soon.

Apparently, Duane was an alpha. Rick wondered what that could mean. He hadn’t noticed anything strange about himself physically, so maybe it was just a cultural thing.

Morgan was talking to Duane in a low voice when Rick rounded the lockers. He had his hand on Duane’s shoulder and appeared to be talking seriously. When Rick came into view Morgan dropped his hand and nodded to him. Duane was staring at Rick.

“Duane,” Morgan prompted, “go on now.” Looking at Rick, he said, “Duane’s just gonna go out to the bullpen, have a look around.”

Rick reached out to Duane as he walked past, halting him.

“If you see anything, anything, shout for us, ok?” Rick looked him in the eye. “We’ll come and get you.”

“I will,” said Duane and left.

Rick went over and sat on the bench again, Morgan joining him. Rick looked at Morgan expectantly, anxiously waiting for an explanation.

“I used to be a paramedic, before all of this,” Morgan began. Rick was surprised; he hadn’t known this and couldn’t quite picture Morgan before the apocalypse at all. “I’d like to check your head for injuries. I’m no expert on head injuries or anything like that but it’s not uncommon for amnesiacs to get their memories back over time. Is there… is there anything else you don’t remember?”

Rick looked down and shook his head. He cast about in his memory but it didn’t feel like there were any gaps. He remember everything that had happened and everything that was going to happen. Or that maybe was going to happen. If something, somewhere out there, had caused this, why did they send Rick back in time with the knowledge to save people, only to stick him in a world that was not his own, where everything could happen differently?  
“Alright,” Morgan said. He shifted closer and reached up to touch Rick’s head. Rick started when he felt Morgan’s hands, his body unused to human contact after months in a coma. Morgan tilted his head forward and began feeling all over for an injury that might explain Rick’s apparent amnesia. 

After a few moments he pulled back, not having found anything. Even though Rick knew he wouldn’t, he had still hoped that there would be something, an injury he had forgotten about, at the very least so he could convince himself that he really had just lost a few memories.

“Alright,” Morgan said. He sat back and considered Rick for a moment. “The memories could still come back any time, but in the meantime… I guess I will have to explain it to you.” He thought for a minute then laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s uh… Well, it’s not something I’ve ever had to think about before. The last time I talked about it was probably my high school health class.” 

Morgan laughed again. Rick was beginning to get nervous; this alpha/omega thing was apparently physical. Something about sex, if they talked about it in health class. Which meant it was tangible, you could tell if it wasn’t there. What if Rick didn’t have it? How could he explain it to Morgan?

“Ok, so you know there are men and women, right?” Rick nodded. “Well, alpha and omega refers to which set of genitalia you have. Alphas have penises and omegas have vaginas. Does this sound familiar?” Morgan asked awkwardly.

It did not. It also hadn’t occurred to Rick until now that he was going to be getting the ‘sex talk’. And, admittedly, he was pretty lost. Honestly, Rick found it a little funny; everything he’s been through, all the things he’s done, and apparently he doesn’t even know how to have sex. 

At least, he thought, the apocalypse wasn’t a surprise this time.

“Why-” Rick cleared his throat. “Why are there male and female and alphas and omegas?”

“Well…” Morgan said slowly. “I guess the easiest way to explain it is this; you’re male or female depending on your top half. Women have breasts, men don’t. Alpha or omega is the bottom half.”

Rick took a moment to process that. He had so many questions. How has this affected gender politics? How does attraction work in this universe? Can you have different combinations, or were men always alphas and women omegas? 

Morgan must have seen how overwhelmed Rick looked because he suggested they take a break.

“We had better get going anyway,” he said. “We can talk some more in the car, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Right. They were on a deadline. They had enough gas that they could drive all the way to Atlanta - and then what? If they got there tonight, they could go straight to the quarry and intercept Glenn’s group before they even left for the city. Rick’s thoughts flashed briefly to the Vatos but, although it was selfish, he figured helping them had ultimately been a waste of time, since they had ended up dead anyway. The best course of action would be to get to the quarry as soon as possible. 

They still had time, Rick assured himself. As long as they left within the hour, they would still have time.

But it was so much. These recent revelations, constantly checking himself against a timeline, the apocalypse itself. Rick needed a moment.

“I’m going to step outside for minute,” he said, standing shakily. “I’ll show you to the weapons store, so you can start picking out some guns.”

“That’s a good idea,” Morgan said, smiling. He also stood. “Duane’ll have to start learning how to shoot, with things the way they are.”

Rick nodded, silently promising that they would actually teach him this time. He lead the way to the gun store, unlocking it and leaving Morgan inspecting the sniper rifle.

He then headed for the side door, passing through the bullpen. Duane looked up quickly from where he was reading the old community bulletin board. There were bake sales and craft fairs advertised there and in the middle there was a big photo of Rick. Duane relaxed when he saw who it was, though he did move away a bit guiltily. 

Rick continued on outside. He took a deep breath of fresh air, letting it out slowly. Leaning against the wall, he took a moment to just try and relax. 

Seeing that photograph there, the first image of himself he had seen so far, reminded him that he really did exist in this world. He wondered what had happened to the him originally from here. Maybe he had been transported to the other reality. 

Would Rick ever be able to go back? What was happening there without him? Did that world even still exist?

His head thunked back against the wall. He had to stop this. He couldn’t afford to freak out; not now, not with the world the way it was. He would likely never know how this had happened and would never be able to go home. 

But he could make a home here. He believed that.

As he sat, he became aware of a distant snarling. It was quiet, just one walker, but undoubtedly coming closer. Rick turned his head and saw Leon Basset stumbling towards him. Rick watched him for a few moments. He had never liked Leon but he had taken mercy on him last time, and likely would again.

Leon hit the chain link fence, reaching through it to try to claw at Rick. Taking in his blood stained cop uniform, Rick wondered if this was what had happened to his other colleagues. It was clear Leon had died here, close by. 

Was it because the place had been overrun, or because he was too slow or too stupid to get away? 

Rick only felt a bit guilty for wishing it was the second.

He sat staring the walker for a few minutes. Every once in a while, there had been a community barbecue and Basset and his friends would always take the table closest to where the food was being cooked, so they could get first dibs. Except, Shane was always the one grilling, so he would give the best bits to the ladies. Carl had loved those barbecues.

Suddenly, Rick pushed away from the wall, leaping up and striding inside. He couldn’t use his gun in case it attracted others or, God forbid, it redirected the herd. And even though he was still kind of weak from the coma, he thought he would be able to handle Basset through the fence.

He crossed the bullpen again, where Duane was now sitting at Officer Kendal’s desk, going through the drawers. Rick left him to it.

He stepped into the same corridor that held the gun store and as he passed the open door he nodded to Morgan, who was busy compiling the guns and ammo they would be taking with them. Rick passed the room where they kept old files and the cleaning closet, before coming to what he was looking for; the evidence locker.

Rick unlocked the door and stepped in. There were several racks of boxes and various items wrapped in plastic, all part of cases that would never be closed. Rick had originally come in to see if he could find a knife but now he wondered what else could be in these boxes. 

What case had he been working when he got shot? He couldn’t remember. A theft, he thought. Or a mugging.

Rick started with the rack at the far left. He worked quickly, rummaging through boxes and discarding wrapped items. Turned out, there wasn’t much of anything useful in here after all. 

On the second shelf, he found what he was looking for. It had been booked in what must have been only a few days before everything fell apart. It was a good blade, a hunting knife, well taken care of. It had been used in the stabbing of one ‘Ms Millar’. Had she been a walker, Rick wondered, or a human?

He took the knife out of its bag, getting a feel for it in his hand. He missed his machete but this would do in the meantime.

As he left, he took one last look at the room. He didn’t lock it.

Duane was at a different desk this time, engrossed in a case file.

Outside, Leon was still there. But he wasn’t alone. There was a female walker pressed up against the fence next to him. She had a bandage around her upper arm, her shirt torn and bloody.

Rick walked up to them, gripping his knife firmly. As he drove it through Leon’s eye, he thought that, at the very least, the man had died on the job. 

And then Leon fell and Rick was able to see past him, all the way along the curved road that led to the station. 

There were more.

Seven or eight walkers, coming down the center of the road. They were still quite far away, likely they hadn’t spotted Rick yet. One was a doctor. On another, Rick thought he could see stained medical scrubs.

Behind them, the horde.

Rick had underestimated them. They moved faster now, and Rick had forgotten. And now they were almost at the police station, hundreds of walkers shuffling relentlessly and single-mindedly in whatever direction suited them best. He could hear them faintly, almost a low buzzing but getting louder quickly.

Somehow, they had gotten on track to the station and now they were here. 

Rick ran. He ran back inside, every step along the corridor seemingly taking him nowhere. He burst into the bullpen, not stopping, shouting for Duane to follow him. Duane leapt up immediately, sprinting after Rick to Morgan.

They met Morgan in the hall, after he had abandoned the guns when he heard Rick shout. He had a rifle in hand and a crazy look in his eye.

“They’re here,” Rick said, panting. “Walkers. Outside.”


End file.
